And I feel that now more than I ever have. It would be so very, very easy to destroy them all.
But I would destroymyselfin the process.
Wild magic is corrupting. It is poison. It draws its power from all the foulness of the world, and to touch it is to let your soul shrivel in its rot.
I jump down from the prison wagon. The hexenjägers haven’t come out of the house yet—there’s a raised argument happening now, one of the jägers shouting at the woman, trying to calm her down.
Sheshouldn’tbe calmed. She’s right to be furious.
Iam furious.
And I’m going toact.
Yes,the voice says, giddy.Yes. Act! Make them suffer!
Not with wild magic,I snap back.I don’t need you to be powerful.
I hurry back behind the house. The small garden waits for me, and my eyes cast over it, searching, searching—
Something bumps my leg.
I nearly scream. But the moment I look down, a small ginger cat stares up at me, and any noise falls flat in my throat.
Mama loved cats. We had dozens over the years.
The cat makes a low grumble of a purr in her throat. She coils away, tail flicking, before she bounds over the garden fence—
And right into a small bush of rosemary.
I scramble for it. There’s nettle too—and witch hazel—
All powerful protection herbs.
I pull out one of the empty vials I had on me when I left Birresborn. From the house, I hear a scream. The telltale sound of irons locking around wrists.
Hurry, hurry—
I stuff the vial with herbs and add a pinch of snow on top, a crude, quick potion.
Please work.
Then I rush for the cottage. A bracing breath in, a slow breath out, and with the heel of my boot, I kick in the back door.
All attention swings on me. The hexenjägers. The woman they’re arresting.
The lot of them throw ferocious glares, all assuming I’m a threat, either another witch or another hexenjäger. The woman’s wrists are in manacles, the center chain held by a hexenjäger who has a look that isn’t just angry—it’s panicked.
Good. Let him writhe.
“Herb and plant with roots that roam,” I start the spell that will channel the Well’s magic and turn these herbs into a protection potion. “Help me here keep safe this home. Protect and care, shield and cover, lend your might to this lone daughter.”
Tears sting my eyes as I weave the words around my vial. Mama’s spell mingles with mine, the one she used on me.
Raw, aching grief pours into my spell, and I feel the power build and build, so I say it again—
“Herb and plant with roots that—”
“Stop her!” The hexenjäger holding the chain shouts. “Hexe!”
